


I Need Some Sleep.

by tricerasaurus



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College AU, Hanamaki knows, I'm just so tired guys, Iwaizumi and Oikawa are domestic as all hell, M/M, Matsukawa works hard, Pining, sleep AU, sleep envy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricerasaurus/pseuds/tricerasaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanamaki had never intended to fall in love with his best friend. Especially not after spending years around him without even batting an eyelash. Being there through every bump and bruise, every tear and laugh. Not after being on the same volleyball team and literally watching him strip down to his skivvies, revealing a most enviable V framed by the curve of his hip bones and a six-pack that would make Da Vinci himself weep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need Some Sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first MatsuHana fic but after my third rewatch of the show (yes, I do have a problem) I've definitely fallen for them hard. The fact that their love is just basically one large meme fest gives me life. Thank you to my favorite beta and person, Lachesis! CHECK OUT HER SHIT PLEASE SHE'S AMAZING. Also please enjoy :)

Hanamaki had never intended to fall in love with his best friend. Especially not after spending years around him without even batting an eyelash. Being there through every bump and bruise, every tear and laugh. Not after being on the same volleyball team and literally watching him strip down to his skivvies, revealing a most enviable V framed by the curve of his hip bones and a six-pack that would make Da Vinci himself weep. 

Leading to his next point, he didn’t plan on the both literal and metaphorical boner he now sported for Matsukawa’s beautiful thick eyebrows, his smile, his criminally long legs. And he  _ most definitely _ had never calculated how thoroughly terrifying it would be to finally give into temptation and just kiss the boy.

Every silence, every breath, was a moment wasted in Hanamaki’s opinion. He was not one to dwell on the disasters that were guaranteed to accompany every adventure but this one seemed too much for even him to conquer. He knew Matsukawa was gay. He knew he was gay. But the prospect, no matter how slight the chances of the rejection, proved too much. No matter how much his body ached for Matsukawa’s touch, or his heart grieved for the moments spent apart, his courage failed him. Every goddamn motherfucking future spoiling time. Hanamaki had had just about enough.

The urge to finally reach out and place his life on the line intensified every moment he sat here with him, on Matsukawa’s own bed, where they were marathoning what they considered to be the worst movies ever created, along with their ever faithful companions, Iwaizumi and Oikawa. The duo were in the enviable position, in Hanamaki’s opinion, of having already accepted their love for each other and were now currently engaged in a healthy (in an atypical sense of the word) long term relationship. 

Oikawa lifted his head suddenly from where it was lying on Iwaizumi’s lap, at the foot of the bed. Exhibit A of this abnormal situation was their interminable disputes over inconsequential matters, “What do you  _ mean _ Alien vs. Predator: Requiem is a ‘bad movie’, Iwa-chan?”

Matsukawa’s eyes flitted open, he was no longer even trying to fight back the boredom-induced slumber, “Thems is fight’n words,  _ Iwa-chan _ .”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “Don’t encourage him, Matsukawa.”

“Yeah Matsukawa, he doesn’t need help digging himself any deeper into this hole.”

“But Hanamaki, he’s unprepared for the shit storm heading his way, I only sought to warn the boy.”

Hanamaki looked at his best friend, sitting next to him, back propped up against a nest of pillows, light from the movie bringing attention to every detail, not that Hanamaki needed help seeing them, “Your mission is one of pure intention, but alas it is a fruitless cause, young Matsukawa.”

“But why, great oracle?” Matsukawa turned on his side, propping up his head on the palm of his hand. The edge of his threadbare t-shirt rode up, releasing a heavenly light accompanied by a chorus of angels. Hanamaki did his best to ignore it but he really was only one, hopelessly in love, very extremely gay boy.

“He has angered the alien freak, now he must suffer,” Matsukawa didn’t seem to notice Hanamaki openly ogling him, but he did give him a bemused expression before turning back to face the ceiling and return to his task of ignoring the shit show happening on the screen in front of them.

They were in the middle of a independent film called The Room, a tragically horrific thing that gave even the exceedingly unartistic Iwaizumi hope that he too, could someday make a movie.  And when Iwaizumi had said, “It’s still better than your shitty alien movie, Shittykawa,” Matsukawa and Hanamaki had been happy to instigate the fight that was sure to follow.

And for their entertainment this evening, Oikawa Tooru will be facing the undefeated throwdown champion, Iwaizumi Hajime, in the squabble of the century.

“First of all, Hanamaki,” Oikawa waggled his finger at the head of the bed, where both Matsukawa and Hanamaki had retreated to to avoid the blast zone, “We prefer the term ‘fanatic’ over ‘freak’.”

Hanamaki raised his hands in surrender, he was only here to supervise, not participate.

“And  _ second of all _ , I refuse to take the opinion of a man who still has yet to accept how truly terrible the Matthew Broderick Godzilla was.”

Hanamaki had to agree with Oikawa on this one, the movie had been severally lacking in, well, everything except worms and Matthew Broderick. He turned his head to Iwaizumi, eagerly awaiting his answer. Iwaizumi crossed his arms, “It was revolutionary for its time!”

Oikawa shook his head sadly, “No Iwa-chan. No it wasn’t.”

“Okay,  _ maybe _ , but now you’re just distracting from the  _ real _ travesty here.”

“You mean my addiction to a critically acclaimed film franchise?”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, “The only things critics have claimed about Requiem is its innate ability to ruin an entire franchise for past and future generations, for all time. At least Godzilla made a comeback.”

“Can you really call the new Godzilla movie a comeback?”

Iwaizumi scoffed, joined in his utter disbelief by Hanamaki and Matsukawa, “Did you not see the epic giant monster battle?”

“Yeah, but-”

Hanamaki interrupted his pointless chain of thought, “His point stands.”

Matsukawa shook his head up and down, “Epic monster battles for the win.”

Oikawa pouted, “Aren’t you guys supposed to be on my side?”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki answered at the same time, “Nope.” and “Never.”

“And on that note,” Iwaizumi checked his watch, “We have to be going.”

“Off to storm the castle?”

“If castle is a metaphor for Oikawa’s ass then yes, that’s 100% what he’s doing,” Hanamaki tried to ignore the gold medal-worthy gymnastics routine his stomach did when Matsukawa’s face cracked into a smile.

Iwaizumi blushed and grabbed Oikawa by the hand, yanking him off the bed and out of Matsukawa’s room, slamming the door behind him.

Hanamaki could still hear them bickering down the hallway, Oikawa beginning with, “I can’t believe I lost to  _ Iwa-chan _ .”

Iwaizumi responded with, “When do you ever win against me? Please, name one time.”

Oikawa sounded smug, “There are too many times to count.”

The rest of the conversation faded with muffled sounds of pain from Oikawa and the door slamming with the unrestrained force generated by Iwaizumi’s massive biceps. 

Matsukawa snickered, crossing his hands behind his head in a victorious sort of pose. Hanamaki slid down the bed so they were eye level. He was close enough to smell the sandalwood cologne Matsukawa’s mother had bought him mixed with the faint aroma of the freesia-scented shampoo they both used (Matsukawa being incapable of buying his own household goods). He was close enough to reach out and touch him, relish the smoothness of the skin stretched across his collarbone and the jutting harsh lines of his hips. Or to test the plump curve of his lower lip, which he could almost see kiss-swollen and red, a result by his own lips. But the vision passed in a moment and he was left with the cold hard truth of his situation. A best friend who’d never shown any romantic interest in him and his own inability to accept this and move on, like a reasonable human being.

He sighed, looking at Matsukawa’s dozing eyes. He really was cute when he was tired, “Well someone looks pleased with himself.”

Matsukawa gave him a lopsided grin, “Quite.”

“You wanna finish the movie, champ?”

Matsukawa let out a yawn accompanied by a full body stretch, bringing Hanamaki’s attention to every sliver of skin presented to him, “I’m not going to lie to you, Hanamaki,” Hanamaki’s heart thudded every time Matsukawa said his name, even is such causal context, “I didn’t even want to start the movie.”

Hanamaki felt himself wilt a bit. It wasn’t like he wanted to watch the movie either. He just couldn’t find it within himself to leave Matsukawa yet, “So you’re just going to go to sleep then? At ten p.m.? On a weekend?” 

After every question Matsukawa nodded, “Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ at the end and punctuated it with a yawn.

Hanamaki’s disappointment turned into annoyance. Not at Matsukawa, but at his infuriating head that, despite its height, things just tended to fly over. Hanamaki took a deep breath and reached for the remote to flick off the television.

“But you can stay here and finish it if you want.”

Hanamaki turned to look at Matsukawa, trying to hide how outright elated it made him to hear Matsukawa not 100% crush his dreams. Matsukawa had turned his body to face Hanamaki’s side of the bed again, but his eyes remained close and he breathed slowly and deeply, on the edges of sleep. Hanamaki turned the volume on the T.V. low enough to barely qualify as background noise and pulled the comforter at the end of the bed up to cover them.

Hanamaki switched between watching Matsukawa and the soundless actions on the T.V. until his eyes finally glazed over and he became locked on formless images flashing in front of him.

Ever since realizing how completely fucked he was over Matsukawa, he’d had a nasty habit of daydreaming and reminiscing on what had led to the inevitable end of his life. Mainly he blamed Matsun’s perfection for it, but the icing on the cake had been when he moved in with Matsun and realized how truly amazing he was.

Hanamaki had always known Matsun came from a life of poverty. In high school there were many days he arrived with no lunch and on rare occasions he would miss practice because he had to pick up an extra shift at one of his two jobs. But living with him brought it all into perspective for Hanamaki.

His own parents weren’t exactly ‘rich’ but they’d had the foresight to set up a fund for him so he would be leaving university debt-free. Matsukawa was paying for every cent on his own, and it was taking a toll on him. Every second he didn’t spend studying or working was spent sleeping. Of course, being Matsun, he often tried to keep himself awake long enough to keep up with his friends but the outcome usually consisted of Matsun snoring away in some corner.

The first instance of this is what really sent Hanamaki over the edge.

It was about a week after moving in and Oikawa had decided to throw them an impromptu surprise housewarming party. In their own house. In the middle of the night. Which usually wouldn’t have been a problem but Matsun was working the closing shift at the restaurant and therefore Hanamaki was celebrating his night alone by engaging in what he thought was a well earned spa night. Mud mask on, bath bomb fizzing away in the tub, Oikawa fucking Tooru decided to bust into his bathroom with the entire population of Japan behind him and completely upend his night. Of course he finished his relaxing bath, bath bombs didn’t come cheap and Hanamaki was a big fan of the idiom “waste not, want not” but after that he was off to entertain a host of people he was sure he didn’t know.

After about three hours of spa-less socializing, most of the guests had left, leaving Oikawa, Iwaizumi and some of their closer teammates from the university’s volleyball team. One with very unruly jet black hair was possibly harassing a quiet kid with pudding-hair who seemed, on first glance, very uninterested but after a second look had a small smile illuminated by the phone screen he was tapping away at. There were also two very  _ very  _ loud individuals in the process of destroying Hanamaki’s state of the art entertainment system, a gift to himself for actually making it into the university of his choice on academics alone. The louder of the two, short with a streak of dyed-blonde hair, was swinging a Wii nunchuck with enough force to most likely kill a man and the taller and buffer one (with a very interesting take on ‘salt-and-pepper’ hair and spooky owlish eyes) was already in the process of killing a man, tackling the small devil to the ground. A reckless yet prosperous tactic, his nearly ear-shattering cry of victory telling the world of his triumph. It also happened that right at that moment Matsun opened the door to their shared apartment, took one look around the room and with a sigh of defeat, joined his friends on the couch.

“Someone is late to his own party,” Oikawa’s words were slightly slurred, a result of him trying to outdrink Iwaizumi and failing miserably.

“Well someone should have thought of telling me then, don’t you think?” Matsun leaned into the couch, cradling his arms across the back of it in a motion of complete exhaustion.

Hanamaki left him there for the time being, counting on his ability to keep Oikawa sufficiently occupied while he dealt with the fist fight about to break out between Nishinoya and Bokuto (if the jerseys they were still wearing were accurate). After shepherding them to a less destructive portion of the apartment, he returned to the main room to find Oikawa trying to coax another drink out of Iwaizumi, meaning for some reason Matsun had failed his Maki-appointed task of Tooru watch. 

So of course Hanamaki had set off straight away to find Matsun and scold him. Only what he found was far from what he expected. He found the love of his life. After a brief search around the common area, he found Matsun with his back against a corner, face relaxed in a way Hanamaki had never seen it. There were slight worry lines around his mouth and eyes, and his hair was significantly longer than Maki remembered it being. How long had it been since Matsun had time to take care of himself? Hanamaki never realised, until he saw Matsun sleeping in an upright position surrounded by loud music and even louder people, how stressful Matsun’s life had become since moving up in the world. It reminded Hanamaki how strong Matsun was and how selfless, to not even dream of worrying his friends with his troubles and Hanamaki’s eyes widened as a jolt of feeling ran through his entire body, electrifying every moment with a static awareness. He was in love with Matsun. 

In that moment Hanamaki made the decision to take care of Matsun in every way possible.  He was up early, making breakfast, lunch, dinner and whatever other meals Matsun wouldn’t be home for to ensure he was still eating properly. And if he came home with a single crumb left, Hanamaki did have a black belt in taekwondo and he wasn’t afraid to use it. When Matsun needed sleep, Hanamaki would clear the apartment of all distraction, himself included if the situation called for it, and when Matsun just needed someone to talk to Hanamaki would stay up until the wee-ist hours of the morning, saying nothing. Saying everything except the one thing that mattered most, really. I love you. Three simple words, three syllables, eight words, ten characters. He could talk Matsun to sleep and stay awake, just watching him to make sure he was going to be okay.

A sudden sound from Hanamaki’s left shook him back to reality. It was just Matsun, shifting in his sleep. He was always so still. If Hanamaki hadn’t seen the rise and fall of his chest, he could’ve been dead. And when Matsukawa got into a deep sleep it was essentially impossible to wake him. Hanamaki had dragged him across the floor and into his bed on more than one occasion. It was almost funny to him how close they were, how intimate they could be. Often when they were children they’d sleep over at each others’ houses and end up snuggled together in the same bed, or they’d hold hands around the school. As they got older and began becoming their own people most of it stopped, but on rare occasions he’d catch Matsun laying a hand absently on his back, stroking up and down his spine, or Hanamaki would lay his head on Matsun’s lap and drift off.

He wanted it so bad.

He wanted it more than he wanted to live. Just to be near him for a few moments. If he could just lay next to him again, like they used to. Feel Matsun’s fingers stroke through his hair and his breath tickle his cheek. For once, Hanamaki let his heart do the talking. Ever so carefully, he lowered himself back down onto the bed, close enough to count the pores of Matsun’s skin. He held a shaky hand out and anchored it to Matsun’s shirt, holding lightly enough to barely even register but it was enough for him. If it was all he could have.

He would leave in a couple minutes. Let Matsun sleep in peace and escape to his own bed. The light from the television would keep him awake if he just focused on that. Not how Matsun’s minty exhales kissed his skin and left behind goosebumps. He closed his eyes, just focusing on the sound of Matsun breathing and humming, a habit he’d always had while sleeping. The noteless tune soothed Hanamaki to sleep, the forgotten T.V. flashing over a scene of a man grasping to the only thing that could own him.

*****

It was hot. Hanamaki could feel sweat beading on his forehead and sticking to… his sheets? The material seemed too soft to be his thread count. And it smelled good. Like Matsun after a day of work. That’s when he felt the arms wrapped around him and linked behind his back. One of Matsun’s legs was folded on to of Hanamaki and he was close enough to Matsun that their body heat was one and the same under the comforter. The source of his discomfort. Matsun was breathing shakily, his chest rising and falling in a syncopated rhythm. A tell tale sign of on of Matsun’s nightmares. A downside to his being able to sleep through an alien abduction (which Oikawa was still convinced he had after finding a small scar behind his ear), was that Matsun couldn’t wake himself up from a nightmare. It was like he got lost in a world of dreams.

Luckily Hanamaki dealt with them on a regular enough basis to know how to handle them. He pushed his body far enough away from Matsun’s so he could move his hand between them and shake his shoulder gently, “Issei.” 

Matsun didn’t show any signs of waking so Hanamaki pushed himself higher up so they could be face to face, he placed a hand on Matsun’s cheek, wiping away a bead of sweat that had formed there, “Issei, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

Hanamaki felt Matsun’s arms tense around him and then he took a sharp breath and his eyes opened wide. Hanamaki could feel Matsun’s heart beating hard in his chest and placed a hand over it in an attempt to calm him. It was only a small space between him so his forearm lay in front of his own heart and he could feel it beating at a similar tempo, although for completely different reasons. He hadn’t meant for Matsun to be awake for their snuggling. But now all his cards were on the table. Matsun looked down at him, “Takahiro?”

“Yes?”

The pieces of what was happening seemed to click in Matsun’s head and he untangled himself from Hanamaki and was on the other side of the room so fast that if avoiding your problems was an olympic sport, he would have the gold by a landslide. 

Surprise was an unusual expression on Matsun’s chronically nonchalant face, “Shit, Taka- Hanamaki, I’m so sorry.”

Hanamaki cocked his head to the side, suddenly unafraid, “For what, Issei?”

“What do you mean, for  _ what _ , Maki? I just like, sleep accosted you.”

Hanamaki moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over and onto the floor, “I’ll get over it.”

Hanamaki had to say, slightly confused morning Matsun was his favorite, “Maki, I think you are failing to grasp at the gravity of this situation.”

Hanamaki moved from the bed in one fluid motion and walked with as much purpose as he had over to Matsun, “I don’t think I’m the one failing to understand anything, right now.”

Matsun took one look at Hanamaki standing in front of him and let out some kind of strangled noise before running his fingers over his eyes, “Maki, there’s something I have to tell you, and after I do I think you’ll understand why I can’t just-”

“I love you, Issei,” Hanamaki hadn’t meant to say it. But he could see Matsun’s confession going one of two ways and whatever he was going to say, Hanamaki had to get it off his chest. A literal weight lifted off his shoulders and he fell back onto the bed, amazed at how it felt to say it outloud for the first time, “I love you.”

He looked back up to Matsun, the picture of stoic perfection, “I- you. What?”

Hanamaki smiled, happy to repeat it for the rest of eternity, “I love you.”

Matsun stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments before a sly smile strung its way across his face, “So if I were to, I don’t know, kiss you? You wouldn’t mind?”

Hanamaki blushed what he saw in his mind’s eye as being the same color as his hair but nodded, undeterred by the forwardness of Matsun’s proposal.

Matsun walked to the bed and pushed Hanamaki back far enough so his knees were at a perfect 90 degree angle with the bed. Then, to Hanamaki’s delight, Matsun straddled him, legs pressed tight on either side of him and his groin brushing against Hanamaki’s unusually tight pants. He tilted Hanamaki’s head up and brought his face close enough so their noses brushed together. Hanamaki wanted to move forward, to finally close the only distance still standing between them but his body wouldn’t move, petrified by what Matsun was doing to him. Matsun tilted his head to the side and brought their lips impossibly close, holding them there, “I wouldn’t mind either.”

Hanamaki wasn’t even given a second to react before Matsun’s lips hit him full force. He had to say, the boy was talented. Hanamaki wasn’t sure where he had the time to practice or who exactly he was practicing with but he expertly traversed Hanamaki’s skin. Hanamaki was too caught up in the moment to reciprocate but Matsun didn’t seem to mind. He cupped Hanamaki’s face with his hands and coaxed his lips open to delve deeper and explore. Hanamaki’s arms gave out after Matsun softly nipped on his lip and he fell backward onto the bed, Matsun following without a second of hesitation.

Matsun hands moved from Hanamaki’s face to grab onto his wrists, which lay somewhere above his head, making it impossible to move the upper portion of his body even if he wanted to. Then, slowly,  Matsun positioned his head under  Hanamaki’s neck and licked a line up his collarbone.

The straight shot of pleasure it sent through Hanamaki’s body had him finally struggling, itching for some kind of friction that Matsun was deliberately avoiding, “Oh god Matsun that feels so good.”

Matsun stopped and looked up from where he was sucking a sizable and dark hickey into the high curve of his collarbone and smirked, “I know.”

Hanamaki decided to take the initiative, using Matsun’s body weight against him to trade places so he could bring their lips back together for a passionate kiss. He could stay like this forever. The feeling of being this intimate with Matsun was one he would never forget and was now sure he could not live without. He pulled back, just far enough away to look down at Matsun’s face, pupils dilated and lips as red as Hanamaki had imagined they would be before saying once again, voice cracking with emotion, for the whole world to hear, “I love you.” 

Matsun pulled Hanamaki down using the hand threaded to the back of Hanamaki’s head and slung his other arm around his middle, pulling them into an embrace, “I love you too, Maki.”

Matsun’s voice sounded heavy, like there was something caught in his throat, “I love you so much.”

They said nothing else for the rest of the night, just held each other close until their breathing rocked them to sleep.

*****

Hanamaki was, needless to say, just a tad irritated. Whoever was at the door had been banging for what felt like hours and still had yet to realize the occupants probably didn’t want to be disturbed. They were happily drooling over each other, unconcerned with what the world wanted with them. He heard the bolts of the lock turning, signifying their guest was either pretty handy with lockpicking and wanted to use those powers to break into the dilapidated apartment of some college students, or their insufferably competent house-sitter had kept their spare key after swearing up and down he would never do such a thing.

Hanamaki opened his eyes, listening for signs of either. The latter was confirmed when two voices entered the apartment and started their way over to the bedrooms.

“I mean, I knew you were a snoopy asshole with no respect for personal boundaries, but isn’t this toeing the line, Tooru?”

Tooru? Someone got laid last night.

“There are no lines where friendship is concerned, Iwa-chan.”

“There are a couple friends of yours I bet would beg to differ.”

“Absolute nonsense Iwa-chan.”

The footsteps stopped in front on Hanamaki’s room, a couple paces closer to the entrance than Matsun’s. The door opened and whatever cutesy morning greeting Oikawa was about to spew was overruled by his confusion of finding Hanamaki’s room unoccupied.

“Iwa-chan, today  _ is  _ Sunday. Is it not?”

“Well yesterday was Saturday, so naturally.”

Oh  _ shit.  _ He was supposed to be going on some double date with Iwaizumi and Oikawa today. Not that it was necessary for them to worry over his personal life now or ever, but he had been hoping for a few more Matsun-filled hours before having to tell their friends of the new relationship status. He counted each of the short suspicious steps to Matsun’s door and buried himself back into Matsun’s side.

There was a gentle knock on the door and Iwaizumi opened it with enough force (most likely unconsciously) for Hanamaki to feel a slight breeze, “Hey Matsukawa, do you know where M-”, Iwaizumi fell silent, “Um, Oikawa?”

Hanamaki heard Oikawa shuffle into the room wherefrom he’d been for some reason waiting patiently just outside the door. He gasped quite audibly, “Those fuckers went and had a secret love affair without me!”

Oikawa stomped in the room, puffing in an irate state. The bed next to him depressed and suddenly Oikawa’s voice was in his ear, “Hanamaki Takahiro I know you’re awake mister. I demand an explanation.”

Hanamaki turned to look at Oikawa, “Matsun and I are fucking.” Well. Will be. Very soon he hoped.

Iwaizumi leaned against the door frame, mouth slack, “Poor Yahaba will be so disappointed.”

“Who cares this is a much better outcome. Anyway I caught Yahaba in the equipment doing some dirty deeds with Kyouken-chan after practice the other day anyway.”

“Wait he’s,” Iwaizumi made a childishly obscene gesture and Oikawa nodded.

“Yes, Iwachan, you really are slow with these kinds of things.”

“No I just don’t stick my mind in other people’s business like you do.”

Oikawa turned back to Hanamaki, “Anyway you have to tell me all about it, come on let’s go.”

He grabbed Hanamaki’s hand, trying to pull him off the bed but Hanamaki let his body become dead weight, resulting in a possible dislocation of his shoulder but also the sweet taste of victory. 

Oikawa eventually gave up, falling back onto the bed, “Iwa-chan come bring your manly biceps over here and help me.”

“No, are you kidding this is fucking hilarious.”

“You’re supposed to support me, Iwa-chan.”

“I believe in your ability to amuse the shit out of me with your shortcomings.”

“You know using tasteless language like that is a sign of stupidity.”

“Oh, please excuse me if I guffaw when an unequivocally bantering juvenile calls me ‘stupid’ when he himself is a corrupt neuron deficient mass of slow-firing synapses and pathologies.”

“ _ Rude _ , Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi walked over to the bed and pulled them both up effortlessly, “Should I wake Matsukawa?”

  
Hanamaki looked back at him, relaxed and happy, the nightmares finally gone, “No, let him sleep.” He saw his whole life flashing in front of him, and Matsun was there every step of the way, even when their hair was greying and the excitement of youth had died in their eyes. He had plenty more morning to wake up at Matsun’s side, and, “He needs the sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [tumblr! ](http://hamahsauwus.tumblr.com/)  
> Please leave kudos and comments letting me know what you thought!


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